That Kind of Girl
by Skate-815
Summary: They were just colleagues. But tonight, she needs him more than anything.One shot comfort fic. The first, if not only Callum/Diane fic on here.


**I've taken a temporary lapse in my retirement from ff to bring you this **

**Dedicated to Becki. Happy birthday.**

**Thanks to laura and Becki for betaing**

**I've been careful, with numerous tips (thanks becki) to make this able to apply to any male/female couple on the bill, up until the very end. The pairing may not be who you expect, but if you don't like it, then forget about the last few paragraphs. The rest of the fic can still stand for anyone.**

**Now without any further ado, here's the fic :D**

You pull your coat tighter around yourself as you walk down the narrow road. Not that it makes a difference. You're still cold. You're still wet. And you still have nowhere to go. You can't help but shudder as you step into a particularly deep puddle and water seeps through the fine lining of your boots, soaking your feet instantly.

This can't go on. You have to go somewhere, before you become anymore of a drowned rat. Suddenly, you stop with a start, realising that you'd been walking without any real purpose in mind. The conveniently placed sign across the road informs you that you've entered Canley Close. Where he lives.

Without a thought, you begin to make your way towards his house. The street lights don't work in this area, and not for the first time, you wonder how he can possibly bear to both live and police there, with its violent gangs and commonplace vandalism. You're forced to peer through the gloom, searching for a number that will tell you that you're at least heading in the right direction. He lives in number fourteen. You remember that from a casual conversation not so long ago.

All the while, the rain pours and in the distance, thunder and lightening crack. Your mind inadvertently trails back to a few hours ago, when you'd left work after a good couple of hours in the interview room with a toe rag of a suspect and arrived home to find fire-fighters surrounding your home. It wasn't malicious, they'd said. Probably an electrical fault. Your own fault for leaving the television plugged in all day.

Well that was all very well, but now you have nowhere to sleep, and worse, no ability to call anyone. So you'd began to walk, and the rain had began to fall. At least you had the good sense to lift a raincoat.

You're ringing his doorbell before you have time to consider what time it is, and then it's too late. You suppose he won't mind too much, considering the state you're in. It takes him longer than you would normally expect to answer, however a quick glance at your watch tells you it's well after midnight, and you suppose it is to be expected.

Eventually he's there, and if it wasn't for the fact that he's wearing the same clothes he departed Sun Hill in earlier, you would have thought you'd woken him. His hair is mussed and his eyes are heavy, but instantly, his gaze sharpens when he notes it's you.

"Are you okay?" are his first words, and you are about to reply with the traditional, affirmative answer, but realise he wouldn't believe you anyway.

"I'm pregnant." the words escape before you know it, and you decide you may as well continue, "And my house just burnt down. Can I come in?" wordlessly, he nods, but to be honest, from the shell struck look on his face, you don't think he heard anything past 'pregnant.'

You make a step forward, and he moves to let you in. Moments later, you're inside, and you feel warm for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. You look down, and note a small puddle forming at your feet, as droplets from the coat, your hair and your boots fall onto his polished wooden floor.

"Sorry" you attempt an apologetic grin, but you can't quite manage it, and it ends in a grimace. He nods again, and it occurs to you, he hasn't spoken since asking you how you are. As you begin to remove the sopping coat from your shoulders, he suddenly snaps to attention and takes it off you, mumbling something about hanging it up to dry. He directs you to his living room and disappears through another door.

He returns a few seconds later clutching a glass with a clear liquid that something tells you isn't water. He sits opposite you, still looking lost for words. Finally, he speaks

"Who's the father?"

"A man I met in a bar" he cocks an eyebrow at you, and fresh surprise passes over him

"I didn't think you were that kind of girl."

"I'm not." you're quick to protest, before realising that you must indeed be for this to happen, "I'm not usually. It just sort of happened."

"Sorry" another few seconds pass with excruciating silence and you wonder if you made the right decision in coming here, "And your house burnt down too?"

"Yeah. Something about electric problems."

"Well you're having a bad day, aren't you?" you can't help but laugh, however one look at his face tells you that he's far from accepting this. "Who else knows?"

"About the fire?"

"About the baby" there's more than just curiosity in his voice, but you can't quite decide what

"No one."

"Not even the father?"

"I didn't catch his name."

"I didn't think -"

"I was that kind of girl, I know." You finish his sentence for him, feeling like he's judging you. Surely he can't think he's done nothing wrong, everyone makes mistakes after all.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

"But you're going to keep it?" your previously bowed head shoots up and your startled eyes meet his. The possibility of aborting it had never crossed your mind.

"Of course I'm keeping it" your tone is harsher than you intended and he breaks eye contact, looking a little ashamed. You continue, and although your voice is still sharp, it lacks the previous sting, "I don't know how I'll manage, but I will."

"Why did you come to me?" the question comes out of the blue and the remainder of the liquid he had previously only been sipping is downed in one.

"I didn't know where else to go."

"So you chose my house?" A sense of embarrassment rises within you, and you know now that no matter how much you'd tried to convince yourself of the contrary, you would never be a welcome caller to his house in the early hours of the morning. You rise slowly and your voice is stiff

"I suppose I'd better be going."

"Where?"

"I'll get a cab to a hotel and…"

"Stay" he interrupts you and his voice is softer than you expected, "Don't go out again tonight. You look as if you only just dried off." Already your anger is subsiding and you find yourself nodding, almost against your will.

"Oh, and you can have the bed." he adds almost as an afterthought, and despite knowing it would be polite to decline, you lack the energy, or indeed the will to argue.

You enter his bedroom with barely concealed curiosity, and aren't surprised to see his bed looks slept in, and statements strew the covers and the surrounding area.

"I fell asleep doing some work." he sounds embarrassed and moves to pick them up. You smile faintly, and perch on a chair out of his way. He rummages in a closet and produces a shirt and a pair of track bottoms

"They won't fit, but they'll do" he says and leaves them on the edge of the bed, "Do you want anything?"

"Water, please." he exits with a nod and you can't resist a quick glance around the room before he returns. From the offset, it's clear that he's neater than you would expect, and you fast grow bored with his impossibly tidy bedroom.

You put on the trousers first, but hesitate when viewing the shirt. It seems he wears a lot larger size than you'd expected, for it looks like this particular garment would swamp you. Nevertheless, you remember that beggers like yourself most definately can't be choosers, and decide that it doesn't matter anyway. It's not as if anyone but he will see you, and it this late hour, he probably won't be looking at you too hard anyway. However, it is of course, the moment that you peel your still wet shirt over your head that he decides to make his entrance. The tension is tangible although you are certain that his eyes had averted almost as soon as he'd noticed your scantily clad form.

Quickly, you yank the dry shirt on and try to fight the blush tinging your cheeks. You suddenly find strength to beat the embarassment and look up, and you find him staring at the floor, the wall, the space around you, anywhere but _at _you. Thinking you better take the water from him, you cross to the centre of the room, and he meets you half way. You thank him politely, and place the glass on the cabinet next to his bed. You turn back to face him, awkwardly wondering what should be done or said now. Then, you notice for the first time tonight that his expression is more than just friendly. Now, he's staring at you with lustful eyes, and this time you are the one to break the eye contact.

The second your gaze drops from his, he clears his throat, almost nervously and mutters

"Well, goodnight." In response, you feel all of the self control you've ever had crumble away, and before you can even begin to think about stopping yourself, your hand is on the back of his neck, and you're dragging him down to your level.

Your mouths clash and you can taste the alcohol he'd clearly been throwing back while you spoke. Your bodies draw closer and you stumble backwards onto the bed, pulling him down with you. Your hand pulls out the as of yet untucked shirt and trails over the muscles hidden beneath. As his kissing intensifies, his own hands slip up the massive shirt.

However as his hand moves to rest on your still flat stomach he pulls back. You look at him questioningly, and he stands up and takes a step back from you, almost as if he were afraid you would bite

"This isn't right."

"Because I'm pregnant?"

"And because we're colleagues." you can hardly believe this is coming out of his mouth. You'd always suspected he was one of the few remaining good guys, but this is verging on ridiculous.

"Look, I'm sorry if I took advantage" he continues

"You didn't" you interrupt now. The last thing you want is to hurt him. You woke him up in the middle of the night, told him something he hadn't wanted to hear, and thrown him out of his bed. The last thing he needed was you almost begging him to return to it. You can't help but think that maybe you are one of those girls after all. "Thank you so much, for listening, and for being my friend." he nods, but still looks as if he would rather be anywhere but there, so you turn away from him and let him leave.

"Night" you call out softly, before the door has a chance to close. He doesn't reply, and you're left wondering why exactly you did what you did.

* * *

He's waiting at the kitchen table the next morning, and to look at him, you would never expect he'd been up half the night talking to you. 

"Morning" he's all smiles and apparently able to overcome the embarrassment of last night. You're less sure if you will be able to, "Toast?" you eagerly accept, realizing you haven't eaten since leaving the nick the previous night.

"Want a lift to work?" you nod, knowing that you have no car here and you could hardly walk, but already you can visualize the catcalls upon your entrance together. You already know which of your colleagues will make what comments and when, and you hate it because you know how close many will come to the truth.

You have always been perceived as strong, and resistant to men, so they will most likely assume that he'd flirted with you, and had eventually beaten you down. And, most horrifying of all, when the truth comes out about your pregnancy, they will think that the father is him, and you don't know how you can possibly deal with that, even if deep down, you wish he really was.

You stand beside him as he locks the door, ten minutes later, unsure of where he has parked his car.

"I'm sorry." you feel the need to get this out, even though he has apparently nearly forgotten already

"What for?" he replies mildly

"You know what for" you don't feel the urge to describe what happened last night in great detail.

"What? The kissing?"

"Yes"

"You were emotional and the last thing you needed was me taking advantage." he's using the tone that he usually reserves for berating others, and you can't look at him. However, he draws close again and you hear a soft whisper, "Doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it."

* * *

You both enter Sun Hill together, and already you can feel eyes on you. A nameless voice calls somewhere from behind them 

"Well Diane, your standards are definitely slipping." At once the male officers crowd around him, obviously wanting to know exactly how he'd managed to seduce you

"Now, now lads. Nothing happened." he says, before turning to her with an obvious wink, "Right, Diane?" At once, your cheeks begin to burn and you think that if you are paired with him today, you will definately make him suffer for that remark.

"No Serge" you feel a hand grasping at your arm and your turn around to see Sally gaping at you.

"You slept with Callum Stone?" there's shock in her voice, and unless you are mistaken, even a little disgust. You feel sorry for him, but every loyalty you ever felt towards him flies out of the window now. He's put you in that situation, so now he deserves everything he gets in return

"Of course I didn't" you put as much sincerty as you can muster into that statement, but you can tell already that she doesn't believe you, "My flat burnt down last night and I needed somewhere to stay" the disbelieving looks surrounding you are multiplying by the second, and knowing you have nothing to lose by it, you say, "He tried it on, but I told him where to go." Satisfied, they nod and turn away. Without meaning to, you catch his eye over Emma's head and you can see an amused smile flicker across his face.

A moment later and it's gone and he's back in control of the troops, issueing orders, pretending like nothing had ever happened.

* * *

**Thanks for reading**

**Please review**

**And I suppose I'll see you all in June lol.**


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